


Angels Among Us

by Sincerely_Sierra



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Abortion, F/F, Feminist Themes, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, PTSD, Period-Typical Sexism, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29059875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Sierra/pseuds/Sincerely_Sierra
Summary: A second installment to “Forgive Me, Mother, For I Have Sinned”.Mildred opens up to Gwendolyn about being an angel of mercy. There’s growth, hurt, fits, and pain along the way, but they learn something important as they go along. Together. Baby steps.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	Angels Among Us

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that I’ve spent two weeks adding onto this little by little is astonishing. I’ve used every last energy source and brain cell to complete this.
> 
> Triggers for this one: literally everything. There’s abortion (obviously), mentions of rape, aftermath of abuse, homophobia, internalized homophobia, sexism, violence, menstruation. All the good stuff. I left nothing to the imagination. I gave up on caring five thousand words ago. 
> 
> Remember, no woman should ever have to use a coat hanger to end a pregnancy. We should not have to die in back alley abortions. Poland and Honduras have imposed total abortion bans. We might as well bleed out at the foot of the patriarchy. “Pro-life” is anti-woman. It’s not “saving babies,” it’s killing women. Mildred would agree.
> 
> I love your reviews and comments. Feel free to leave a prompt or plot for my favorite lesbians. I used up my last brain cell for this and now I’m out of service until the morning.
> 
> —Sincerely, Sierra

Thirty days had passed since their last supper with Trevor and Andrew. Finally, one breezy Saturday morning during the beginning of a dewy springtime, Trevor called, and Gwendolyn reached over hastily to grab the telephone, leaned forward on the sofa with Mildred sat between her legs as the former worked her hands through the relentlessly stubborn knots in Mildred’s hair.

One hand tousled in a particularly large knot of red hair, Gwendolyn leaned back and let Trevor speak his mind, despite Mildred already teetering on the cusp of tardiness for work and the roads damp with spring rain that would prolong her drive to the hospital. 

Mildred waited patiently. Her hands fiddled with the buttons of her dress, tugging and pulling, while Gwendolyn conversed deeply with Trevor over the telephone. From what Mildred could understand from her position on a pillow, Trevor had wanted to bring Andrew over for supper tomorrow, and that much was fine by Mildred, but she was a bit short on time at the moment, albeit being her own fault. 

“We would love to have you over, Trevor,” said Gwendolyn. “I’ll cook this time. You needn’t worry about bringing anything, and I mean that.”

The clock inched towards eight o’clock. Mildred became apprehensive, and her hands fumbled even harder. Gwendolyn’s fingers gently massaged Mildred’s scalp, and Mildred sighed in content, letting her head fall back against Gwendolyn. Her hands released her dress, and once Gwendolyn managed to get off the telephone with the man who could speak a mile a minute, Gwendolyn resumed coming out Mildred’s impossibly stubborn tangles with her fingers.

“Darling, how’d you get so many knots in your hair?” Gwendolyn grunted as her fingers found a particularly tough knot at the ends of Mildred’s hair. The unmistakable sensation of something sticky and hard caused Gwendolyn to retract her hands. “Mildred. . .is that a Jolly Rancher?” 

Heat crept up on Mildred’s cheeks as her entire face flushed. She’d been happily sucking on a Jolly Rancher, one of the newest hard candies on the market, for the better half of the evening the day before. Cherry flavored, to be precise. She could recall removing it from her mouth, half a nub at that point, prior to laying down for the night, with a full intention of finishing it off the next morning, but she couldn’t recall exactly where she had placed it. The nightstand? No. The trash? No. Her hair? Maybe. She wasn’t a very careful person in her leisure time. 

“Sorry,” Mildred said softly, carefully shrugging one shoulder. “I knew I put it somewhere.”

“It won’t come out this way,” sighed Gwendolyn. “I’ll have to cut your hair, darling. It’s just an inch. I’ll be done before you know it. I used to cut my sister’s hair all the time; I was very good at it, I must say.” 

Before Mildred could protest or fly into a panic-induced fit followed by overwhelming anxiety and kicking and screaming, Gwendolyn already had the phone in hand and was hastily dialing the hospital’s number. Hot tears sprang into Mildred’s eyes as Gwendolyn informed Betsy that Mildred would be just a tad late that morning. Car trouble, Gwendolyn reasoned before she hung up and pulled Mildred onto the sofa. She turned the squirmy woman around so her back was facing her, fluffing out the ends of her hair. 

Each new touch brought forth more dread in Mildred’s heart, and when Gwendolyn began sweeping away the hair from Mildred’s neck, Mildred found herself drifting away into a wonderland of emotions; good and bad, pretty and ugly, until the dam shattered and out spilled an amount of feelings that could sail the Titanic. 

“I’m sorry!” Mildred wailed. Gwendolyn halted, her hands stopping at the nape of Mildred’s tender neck. “Please don’t cut it! Please! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!”

Dumbfounded, Gwendolyn hesitated to touch Mildred again, certain she would worsen her cries if she did. With a gentle caress of her knuckle, Gwendolyn soothed Mildred into near hiccups, and the younger woman’s shoulders heaved up and down as sobs overcame her body. Gwendolyn found the strength to pull Mildred into her lap, turning her around and allowing Mildred’s legs to frame her waist as she did so. Auburn hair flooded Gwendolyn’s chest as Mildred dug herself into her lover, her hands finding their way around to the collar of Gwendolyn’s shirt. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Gwendolyn crooned into Mildred’s ear. “No one is mad at you, darling. I’m not mad or angry with you. Please don’t cry so hard, sweetheart. You’ll make yourself sick.” 

“Please don’t cut it,” sobbed Mildred into her palm. “I didn’t mean to do it. Why are you punishing me?”

These fits and diluted tantrums, if one could rightfully label them as such, had become an everyday staple in their home in the past few weeks. Gwendolyn understood how heartbroken Mildred had been watching the two remaining lesbians at Lucia battle their abusive husbands and the endless falsified treatments Doctor Green had been prescribing them. 

Although Mildred’s moods were night and day, at all hours of the day, the fits and traumatic episodes were something new and unprecedented. Gwendolyn had only discovered these fits when she’d arrived from a grocery run to find Mildred hiding in the closet after accidentally breaking a mug—Gwendolyn’s favorite mug, the one with the pretty lilacs on it. Gwendolyn didn’t hurt her then, and she wouldn’t hurt her now, and why couldn’t Mildred see that? 

“Darling, it’s not a punishment,” said Gwendolyn. “It won’t come out, even in a wash. I’m just going to cut your hair. Really, it’s only a trim. It won’t hurt. Your ends could use a trim regardless. They’re a bit stiff. Will you let me trim your hair, darling?”

The fit continued, draining Gwendolyn of whatever energy reserves she had prior to this. Catching Mildred’s little wrist in her hand, Gwendolyn guided it to her own chest, above her heart, allowing the steady beat of her heart soothe Mildred. The younger woman sniffled and pulled away from Gwendolyn’s body, her cheeks the color of menstruation and mucus dripping from her nose. Without touting anything that would cause the woman any potential embarrassment, Gwendolyn snatched a tissue and wiped Mildred’s face. 

“Why don’t you tell me why you think this is a punishment,” Gwendolyn offered. She left kisses on each tip of Mildred’s fingers. “Why do you think me cutting your hair is a punishment?”

Silence had never seemed so deafening. Gwendolyn counted Mildred’s breaths as they returned to their normalcy, in and out, Mildred’s shoulders rising and falling with every little sigh she made. Gwendolyn’s fingers skated along Mildred’s fragile jawline, caressing along her lips, carefully pacifying her sniffles into a ripple of quietness. Mildred’s hands that had been in fists clenching Gwendolyn’s shirt loosened and relaxed around the fabric. Her head met Gwendolyn’s shoulder and lolled about there as she attempted to settle. 

“My second foster home. . .the mother was angry with us one morning. I remember, her baby was crying and needing to be fed. Her other two kids were running around the house, chasing the dog. Breakfast, or whatever little food they had, was burning on the stove. And I was sitting at the table, eating oatmeal. I got oatmeal every day. They got bacon and pancakes and eggs. I liked sugar in my oatmeal, but not too much because they didn’t have a lot of money. . .” Mildred sniffed, nestling further into Gwendolyn so the older woman couldn’t see the tears leaking from her eyes. “I got a bit of it in my hair. It was sticky and I couldn’t get it out. When the mother came back, she saw what I had done. She took her baby off her breast, set him in a laundry basket, and grabbed my by my hair. She yelled at me, told me I shouldn’t waste food like that because of the lack of money. So she sat me in front of the bathroom mirror. . .”

Gwendolyn’s fingers ran along Mildred’s back and up towards the nape of her neck, her hand cradling the back of Mildred’s head as she gently rocked her in place. 

“It’s alright, darling,” Gwendolyn assured calmly. She gave Mildred’s sides a little squeeze. “You’re safe with me.”

“She made me sit there, looking at myself, while she got the scissors and cut off all my hair. It was at my chin, so not like a boy, but it was crooked and uneven,” Mildred hiccuped. “That was the time I actually went to public school. All the kids laughed and pointed at me, saying I looked homeless and unwanted. My foster mother told me it was my fault for wasting food.” 

The lump forming in Gwendolyn’s throat swelled more as she shifted Mildred more to her hip and rocked her against her breast. Comforting Mildred would prove difficult, because what could Gwendolyn really say to her that would mend Mildred’s hurt? 

“I’m sorry that happened, baby,” Gwendolyn crooned. “You’re special to me, and I could never do such a thing to you. Getting candy in your hair was just an accident, but I can’t fix it without needing to trim your hair. This is not a punishment, because you did nothing wrong, understood?”

Nodding against Gwendolyn, Mildred sighed in content, her fingers fumbling with Gwendolyn’s collar. The little buttons there caught her attention, and she paid them much mind. 

“Now, would you like to watch me cut it, or would you rather close your eyes?” asked Gwendolyn. “You’re in control. Understood?” 

“Watch,” Mildred sniffed. “I just. . .have to see what you’re doing.”

“That’s okay, darling,” said Gwendolyn. She braced herself. “Up you go.” 

Mildred didn’t have time to understand much before Gwendolyn had stood up and squeezed the backs of Mildred’s thighs, urging her to keep her legs wound tightly around her hips. Mildred giggled lightly in Gwendolyn’s shoulder, her head laying there as Gwendolyn carried her in stride to the downstairs bathroom, where she sat her atop the sink’s countertop and dug a brush and a pair of shears from the drawer. 

“Do you want to hold them?” asked Gwendolyn. 

She placed them into Mildred’s hands, allowing her to explore the blades with her fingers and brush her own hair out so it was perfectly even. While Mildred became familiar with the tools, Gwendolyn ran warm tap water and carefully dampened the ends of Mildred’s hair where she would be cutting, taking extra care to the alarm red candy trapped beneath a thousand strands of hair.

Helping Mildred to her feet, Gwendolyn turned her around so she was looking at herself. Mildred watched over her shoulder as Gwendolyn took the shears and began to trim the ends of her hair slowly and carefully. With a sense of dread in her chest, Mildred observed carefully, her eyes glistening with tears as the little snippets of hair floated to the floor like feathers. 

“My beautiful girl,” Gwendolyn whispered. “I’m almost done.”

Eyes screwed shut, Mildred forced down a painful lump in her throat as the shears clinked and squeaked like a wounded mouse. Something heavy fell from her head, dropping to the floor at her heels, and she could feel Gwendolyn’s nimble, gentle fingers tending to the ends of her hair. An anxious shiver of dread overcame Mildred’s body as Gwendolyn’s hands skated along her sides and up to her breasts. 

“I’m done,” assured Gwendolyn. “It’s over, darling. Open your eyes.”

Gwendolyn was absolutely magical, so Mildred decided when her eyes opened to discover hair not much different than prior to the candy debacle. Her tips were wispy and soft, and they flourished around her face as she reached up to twirl them around her fingers. A soft smile danced upon her lips as she turned to Gwendolyn and wound her arms around her waist, bringing her impossibly closer. 

“Thank you,” Mildred murmured. 

“My pretty girl,” Gwendolyn crooned, interlocking her fingers with Mildred’s and bringing their hands to her chest. “It’s not a punishment. You did nothing wrong.”

Mildred’s shoulders fell. She sighed. “I’m late. Betsy’s probably cross with me.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” assured Gwendolyn. “She didn’t seem too distraught. Your lunch pail is on the counter. How about I drive you to work and pick you up tonight? We can have dinner at the oyster bar, if you’d like.” 

The subsequent positive hum flowing out of Mildred’s mouth sent Gwendolyn melting into a puddle of goo. The younger woman swayed the both of them, her eyes twinkling with a certain joy Gwendolyn hadn’t had the pleasure of witnessing for quite some time. They’d not been to the oyster bar in nearly five months, and Gwendolyn only recalled that because she could remember Mildred excitedly pointing to someone’s large jack-o-lantern display on the way home. 

“I’d love that,” Mildred sniffed. “We’d better get going.” 

Gwendolyn took Mildred’s hands and guided her arms around her neck, and when she squeezed Mildred’s thighs, Mildred knew to quickly jump, and then Gwendolyn was carrying her downstairs like some sort of disgruntled toddler. Gwendolyn could feel the grin on her shoulder as she carried Mildred to the kitchen and grabbed her ridiculously heavy lunchbox. Mildred’s keys were hung on the hook beside the front door, and with Mildred clung to her like the Jolly Rancher to Mildred’s hair, Gwendolyn stumbled to the car in the driveway, almost forgetting that her neighbors weren’t yet adjusted to seeing Mildred and this might’ve been a problem for some. 

Billie Holiday was a staple in every car ride. Gwendolyn let Mildred have her fun trying to remember every lyric as she drove through the drizzle to Lucia, finding Mildred’s mood to have lifted since this morning’s fit. Something angelic Mildred was, something other worldly, when she bounced in her seat and hummed along to every Billie Holiday song the radio played. 

It was pouring by the time Gwendolyn reached the hospital. She came to a careful stop at the large steps of the building, reaching over to give Mildred’s lips a little kiss. Mildred giggled against her and took her lunchbox in her hand. If it weren’t for Mildred being so goddamn tardy for the first time in her life, Gwendolyn would have no qualms about parking the car behind the building and tearing off Mildred’s clothes like a ravenous hyena. 

“I love you, darling,” said Gwendolyn. “Have a good day, okay? See how long it takes them to notice your hair. I’m sure Betsy will be all over it.”

“I will. I love you, too.” 

Leaving Gwendolyn was always hard, but by the time Mildred found herself inside Lucia, shaking off her overcoat, she was met with the comfort of a sterile environment and catatonic patients wandering aimlessly about the common area. She greeted Ruth at the desk before venturing off to the nurse’s canteen to put her lunchbox away. 

Betsy was there when Mildred turned the corner. Only, the witty nurse hadn’t seen Mildred’s entrance, too preoccupied with the newest addition to the staff, a young, bumbling woman named Maria who enjoyed crocheting and playing with her hair. Her initial few weeks of training at Lucia State Hospital hadn’t been very pleasant thus far, and Mildred could immediately sense she was having her ass handed to her, for what felt like the tenth time that week. 

“You mustn’t treat the lesbians that way, Miss Ainsley. They are people, too,” Betsy scolded. “I had better not see you do such a thing again, or I will have you fired. Do I make myself clear?”

“But Nurse Bucket, I felt her eyes on me as I was changing her sheets. I had to defend myself,” said Maria. Her lips were a cherry red, her hair the color of chocolate milk. And Mildred despised her just enough to not find an ounce of pity when her eyes welled up with tears. 

“Enough!” scolded Betsy. “Go change the linens and stop using a panic defense! That is no longer tolerated here. Now go!”

Scurrying away from Betsy’s tirade, Maria bumped into Mildred on the way out, and Mildred brushed her shoulder before placing her lunchbox in the refrigerator. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Mildred said. “I had a mishap this morning.” 

“I see,” Betsy chortled. 

Mildred’s face flushed. “What happened this time, with Maria? Did she yell at Valerie again? Because I told her she would have her ass on a silver platter if she did that again.” 

Betsy rubbed an apple on her dress and sat at one of the tables, inviting Mildred to sit with her. Mildred accepted the invitation and sat across from the woman, cautiously studying every move she made, from peeling the sticker off the apple to taking a large bite. 

“I caught her nearly strangling Laura Darby,” sighed Betsy. “I stopped her just in time for Laura to regain her breath.”

Mildred’s hands clenched into fists so hard her fingernails dug into the skin of her palms until they were almost bleeding. “Why is she allowed to be here? She can’t do that! She’s endangering the patients!”

“We already lost Dorothy Hill,” Betsy reminded. “How, I’m still figuring that one out. But I cannot afford anymore mishaps. I’m allowing Maria to complete her training, as per Doctor Green’s orders, and then I’m placing her on a thirty-day probation. If she does something like that again, she’ll have to go. Valerie Castillo is already fragile, and I can’t have Maria terrorizing her with threats every chance she gets. But it’s ultimately up to Doctor Green, if she thinks this is a harmful situation or not.”

“It is,” Mildred reiterated. “It’s very harmful. Dorothy Hill was a tragic case, and that should have been enough proof that these women are just fragile beings who need to be loved, not strangled.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m simply complying,” Betsy said, biting into the apple. “I have a project for you. Take them out to the barn and let them interact with the animals. They could use fresh air.” 

“Together?” Mildred inquired. “Wasn’t that against the rules, because them being together defeats the purpose of their stay here?”

“Mildred, they’re only here because their husbands refuse to file for divorce or release them in hopes that we’ll somehow fix them and they’ll go running back to their Prince Charming, fully heterosexual,” explained Betsy. She procured a cigarette from her dress pocket and lit it up with a match. “Unfortunately, that is not how this works, and you of all people know that.” 

A hiss reeled through Mildred’s head at the word “unfortunately,” as if Betsy were somehow full of remorse that she could not cure the women of their sapphic tendencies and the fantasies of caressing anotherwoman’s body. But Mildred understood the context of what she meant, and she relaxed solemnly, choosing rather to ignore Betsy’s comment altogether rather than dwell over it for too long. 

“Take them out after lunch, and if you see Maria doing anything of the sort again, you tell me immediately,” said Betsy. She took a drag of her cigarette. “That one has a lot to learn.”

Mildred did not want to be the one to teach her, but if that was where her cards laid, she would have no issues wrapping her hand around that girl’s pretty neck until it snapped, her larynx crushing beneath the very fingers that explored the body of another woman each night, in and out over every crevasse, all around, until her fingers were soaked.

—

Menstruation hurt for Mildred. Gwendolyn’s red headed aunt didn’t. Mildred awakened that Monday morning, two hours before her alarm was due to wake her, a burning ache in her uterus that she had always associated with a period, a word which was only used between her and Gwendolyn in the privacy of their home, never to be spoken of outside of their internal realm of sapphic creations. 

Mildred rolled over, attempting not to disturb Gwendolyn, and kept her thighs pressed firmly together, enough for her vulva to throb. A smear of blood presented itself as she slid off the bed, and her breath caught in her throat. She limped around to Gwendolyn and shook her awake, tears springing into her eyes as the woman stirred in upset. In the quietness of the night, Gwendolyn sat up, ever so confused and more so concerned for Mildred. Her hands groped the sheets, desperately searching for her glasses, and they came away wet. 

“Oh, darling,” Gwendolyn cooed. When the lamp flickered on, the room flooded with a yellow light, and Mildred couldn’t help but retch at the sight of Gwendolyn’s hand covered in her menstrual blood. “It’s all right, sweet pea. It’s just blood.” 

Mildred had never stained the sheets or her clothes before. She had always been so careful around her time of the month, ensuring her Tampax was never too full and she kept her vulva clean, and goddamnit, now was not the time for this to happen. She was due to wake in two hours, and her body felt more exhausted than it had ever been, between caring for Laura and Valerie and getting smacked in the face by an unruly patient battling severe Schizophrenia, now experiencing a heavy, painful cycle that could fill a river. 

Gwendolyn watched Mildred’s hands curl into fists and her eyes clench shut. Sensing an oncoming fit, Gwendolyn used her clean hand to pull Mildred back to the bed. Her purple nightgown was spotted with red, like splattered paint, and she was certain blood was trickling down her legs, too. But that was okay, to Gwendolyn, at least.

“You’re okay, Mildred,” said Gwendolyn. “It’s only blood. I have my period. I’m bleeding, too. We’re both bleeding, sweetheart.” 

“I’m disgusting,” spat Mildred. “It’s on the bed. My bodily fluid is on the sheets. It’s disgusting.” 

“It’s not disgusting. It’s natural. Blood is normal during your cycle,” assured Gwendolyn. 

Mildred was just broken in all sorts of ways. She could not fathom how blood leaving her vagina was not disgusting and vile. These sheets were brand new and still smelled of the plastic they had come in, and now they were ruined with Mildred’s bodily function, and it was all her fault. She should have prepared more accurately for something like this. How Gwendolyn hadn’t already slapped her across her face was a miracle.

“I’m very sorry, Gwen,” Mildred whimpered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m nothing to be sorry for,” said Gwendolyn. Her thumb stroked the back of Mildred’s hand. “Want to see how not gross this is?”

In her hazy, half-asleep glory, Mildred watched in a mixture of horror and amusement as Gwendolyn brought her bloody hand to her mouth and licked every last drop from her fingers, cleaning off Mildred’s menstruation river by river, until her fingers came away clean and shiny with saliva. 

“Gwen. . .” Mildred breathed. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Gwendolyn said, moving out of bed and helping Mildred to the adjoined bathroom. 

The older woman sat Mildred atop the sink and hiked her stained nightgown up and over her head, depositing it into the laundry basket. Mildred was left in soaked panties, which she began to wiggle out of, until Gwendolyn pulled them off for her. 

The blood painting the insides of Mildred’s thighs was beautiful to Gwendolyn, who wet a washcloth under the tap and wiped Mildred clean, taking extra care to her vulva and vaginal opening, careful not to contaminate her. 

“I’ve never started this heavy,” Mildred sniffled. “It hurts a lot. My breasts hurt more than normal.”

A sound of sympathy left Gwendolyn’s mouth as she finished cleaning Mildred with the cloth. Gwendolyn tapped Mildred’s knees, and the younger woman parted her legs a bit so Gwendolyn could insert a fresh Tampax into her. The pressure of the cotton entering her opening alleviated the pain a tad, just enough for Mildred to sit more upright. 

“There,” said Gwendolyn. “You’re all clean. I’ll get you an aspirin, and you can snuggle up with me. How’s that sound?” 

Mildred was shy about it, but she wrapped her arms around Gwendolyn neck, expecting to be carried like she’d always been, despite her complete nudity. Gwendolyn braced herself with an inhale and lifted Mildred up, her hands coming around to cradle Mildred’s bottom. 

After watching Mildred swallow down an aspirin or three, Gwendolyn stripped the dirty sheets and replaced them with an older set that would just have to do until the laundry was done. She laid down and invited Mildred in with her, arms open and welcoming for her to snuggle into. The woman had chosen to remain naked, only the string of the Tampax slightly visible between her legs. Mildred reached down and tucked it between her labia. 

“I love you,” Mildred sniffled against Gwendolyn’s chest. Gwendolyn’s breasts were ever so inviting. 

“I love you, too,” repeated Gwendolyn. Her fingers laced with Mildred’s. “Sleep, darling. You have work and I’m going to do some decluttering tomorrow. We can gather up everything we don’t want and donate it. I know a family-owned junk shop we can donate to. They’ll be happy to take our stuff.” 

“You mean someone will actually take junk we don’t want? We don’t have to throw it away?” Mildred yawned, her hand curling around Gwendolyn’s thumb. 

“They’re called junk shops or, as the elites are calling them, thrift shops. We can drop off everything we don’t want and they’ll sell it back to people who do need or want it,” explained Gwendolyn. “Trevor and I used to donate all the time. He never kept things for very long. I used to declutter every few months and take loads of clothes and junk to the shop. It felt good to help our community. I haven’t been in quite some time. It could be something we can do together. Mildred?”

Mildred’s soft breaths signaled her slumber although her face was tucked in Gwendolyn’s left breast. Gwendolyn kissed the top of her head and reached over to turn the light out, falling into a quiet peace herself. 

—

After sending Mildred off to work with a kiss and a gentle squeeze to her butt, Gwendolyn got to work on decluttering the house, starting with the upstairs. She threw some of her clothes into a box while Hecate trotted around her ankles, circling her as she moved about gathering up everything that no longer brought forth any purpose to her life. She tossed a couple pairs of shoes into the box, along with some costume jewelry she never wore. 

Hecate forfeited gaining Gwendolyn’s attention and climbed up on her beloved windowsill, sunbathing in the golden streams. It was the first sunny, clear day in ages, and Gwendolyn took it as a metaphor for how well things were going after Mildred having continuous fits nearly every day for one reason or another. 

It wasn’t Mildred’s fault, and Gwendolyn knew that to be true. And although Gwendolyn would never consider abandoning the nurse like everyone else had seemed to have no problem doing, Mildred’s fits were sometimes too exhausting to simmer, and sending her to work and getting an nine-hour break helped Gwendolyn recharge her batteries before tending to her love when she would arrive home. She couldn’t save a drowning person if she didn’t know how to swim. 

Cleaning was a hobby of Gwendolyn’s. She played the radio loud enough for her neighbors to complain, made a potion of several chemicals in a mop bucket, and quickly got to work on scrubbing the upstairs bathrooms. Hecate followed her every move, gliding along her ankles like a needy child, much like Mildred sometimes was. 

“Oh, shoo,” said Gwendolyn, moving the cat aside with her foot. “I need to clean out the closet.” 

The closet was unlocked, which Gwendolyn couldn’t remember ever unlocking, but she paid no mind and forced open the door. The rack was lined with a few coats she couldn’t remember buying, and she tossed them all. That should have been all, but it somehow wasn’t, because Gwendolyn found a small briefcase on the ground, huddled away behind an empty box. 

It was probably Trevor’s, something he hadn’t genuinely needed, but Gwendolyn just had to be certain of that before she could throw it out, because knowing her ex-sweetheart, he would come crawling back for it ten years too late. The man had once asked Gwendolyn where his socks had gone eight months after she’d tossed them. 

Confusion and a hurried anxiety settled into Gwendolyn’s stomach. There were medical tools Gwendolyn could not name for the life of her, because they all seemed the same; shiny and sharp. She only had one fine idea of what it was upon laying her eyes on the curved instrument. 

“Mildred’s got herself a hobby,” Gwendolyn told herself. Hecate jumped into her lap and mewled at the silver curette. “How should I feel about this?” 

Gwendolyn closed the briefcase and carried it downstairs, setting it next to Mildred’s favorite chair in the living area. The woman wasn’t certain what she felt more cross about; Mildred having such a desire to hide this from her or the fact that Mildred may have lied once again. 

Either way it happened, Gwendolyn continued to clean, this time turning the music up louder to drown out her own thoughts, preparing for another fit from Mildred in the evening. 

—

Gwendolyn took a drag of her cigarette on the sofa when the door opened and shut and in came Mildred, shrugging off her overcoat. Before Gwendolyn could greet her love, Mildred had already pounced into her lap, her lips finding Gwendolyn’s in a near instant, hungry and touch-starved. She smelled of sterile tools and that goddamned hospital, like people and stale coffee. 

“Careful, darling girl,” said Gwendolyn as she put out her cigarette. “You could’ve burned yourself.”

“I had a good day,” Mildred said, gently bouncing up and down in Gwendolyn’s lap. Her hands found Gwendolyn’s collar and pulled her close for another kiss. “Valerie and Laura have been given permission to go outside each day now. I spend an hour with them in the barn every afternoon, and it’s their special time to interact with each other. It’s so wonderful, Gwen. They can’t leave so they’ve made themselves comfortable in each other.”

The twinkle in Mildred’s eyes almost allowed Gwendolyn to forget the intention of the conversation she wanted to have. Everything about Mildred’s joyful moments was invigorating, from the way she excitedly bounced to the way her eyes lit up like Christmas trees in December. Her infectious smile could’ve been hung in a museum. 

“That’s great to hear, darling,” said Gwendolyn as she ran her hands over Mildred’s sides. Her fingers skated along her jawline.

Frowning, Mildred cupped Gwendolyn’s left cheek and and stroked the apple of the right. 

“Are you mad at me?” Mildred’s hands caressed Gwendolyn’s face, her index tracing along her lips. 

“No, of course not. Why would you assume that?” Gwendolyn inquired. 

“You seem so distant,” said Mildred. “What’s the matter?”

A pregnant pause weighed heavily on the couple. Mildred became uneasy, and her tears bubbled to the surface the longer Gwendolyn took to answer the question. Gwendolyn’s jaw clenched. 

“I found something in the closet,” said Gwendolyn as her thumb stroked the back of Mildred’s hand. “It’s sitting on the table there. I think it’s yours. It’s not mine.”

Mildred slid off Gwendolyn, wincing as a cramp struck her abdomen, and turned to the coffee table. The reality of the situation knocked the wind out of her body as she ran a finger over the leather before turning to Gwendolyn, bracing for impact. Her arms were prepared to shield her face and her legs were prepared to run. 

When nothing happened, Mildred’s fists clenched, almost as if desiring hitting herself for Gwendolyn, to save Gwendolyn the shame of having to knock her unconscious. 

“Well, go on,” Mildred began. “You can yell at me all you want. I’ll even explain to you in great detail what it’s like to perform an abortion. But I will not apologize for it, and no amount of guilt from you would change my mind.”

“I’m not angry, and I’m not going to yell,” said Gwendolyn. “I’m not against it at all. I’m just a little upset that you felt the need to hide this from me.”

A tear traveled down Mildred’s cheek. She couldn’t wipe it away, too concerned with keeping her eyes on Gwendolyn, in case she had to protect herself. Gwendolyn would never hurt her, and a little voice in the back of her mind knew it to be true, but what if she became too angry and lost all control? 

“Don’t cry, darling,” sighed Gwendolyn. “There’s no reason for that. Come here.”

She reached for Mildred, and then Mildred jumped away, tripped over her own clumsy feet, and fell against the coffee table with a sickening thud before Gwendolyn could catch her. Gwendolyn was scrambling to her feet within seconds, scooping Mildred into her arms, and Mildred forced out a strangled cry, her palms slamming into Gwendolyn’s chest, feet kicking and heels digging into the carpet. 

“Mildred, it’s okay,” Gwendolyn helplessly reassured. “It’s okay! You hit your head, darling. Don’t move so much. It’s okay.”

“No!” Mildred cried. Her hands found her ears and clutched them as she sat up against the edge of the table, her knees coming to her chest. “Don’t!”

Gwendolyn couldn’t understand what Mildred was attempting to tell her, but as she tried wiping those tears away, she realized, Mildred meant “don’t touch.” Mildred sobbed into her knees and kicked at Gwendolyn when she tried to approach. Mildred’s ears were fire red when her hands fell away to her sides, her hair a wild disarray. Her doll-like face had been nearly permanently scrunched with force. 

“I won’t touch you, but you are okay, darling,” Gwendolyn practically begged. “You’re all right. I’m right here. I won’t hurt you. I could never do that.” 

“Stop yelling!” Mildred cried. 

Three heartbeats passed before Mildred found herself slumped on the floor in a heap. Gwendolyn couldn’t bear touching her and not touching her all at once. She couldn’t bear seeing Mildred cry so wounded and helplessly into the carpet, her hands fisting her own clothing as her entire body twitched and twinged and spazzed like a broken windup toy.

“Let it out, sweetness,” Gwendolyn gently instructed. “Let it all out, and when you’re ready, come back to me.” 

It took awhile. Perhaps half an hour. And then Mildred crawled into Gwendolyn’s lap, her shaky hands exploring every inch of Gwendolyn, as if disbelieving the reality of the woman still there, holding her, willing to love her and console her. Her fingers fumbled and roamed, her bottom lip tucking into her mouth as she sucked gently. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” cooed Gwendolyn. “There you are. My angel.” 

“I’m sorry,” Mildred sobbed. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I promise!”

“Shh. First, we need to get you calmed down, and then you can tell me whatever you need. Is that okay with you?” asked Gwendolyn.

Nodding against Gwendolyn, Mildred wrapped her arms around her neck. Something snapped inside Mildred, and she fell limp, exhaustion overcoming her body. She was hungry and tired and in need of a bath, and she became frustrated with herself the longer it took for her breaths to even out.

“Take a deep inhale,” said Gwendolyn. Mildred inhaled, the air that filled her lungs feeling all the more human. “Now exhale.” Mildred exhaled quietly. 

“Better,” murmured Mildred. 

“Can you talk to me?” Gwendolyn hummed. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Say whatever you need to.”

“Dorothy was pregnant,” said Mildred. “And she didn’t want to be. When I was in the army, some of the nurses would have sex with the soldiers on base. Some of them were raped, too. And a few got pregnant from that.” 

Holding Mildred closer to herself, Gwendolyn began raking her fingers through the beautiful hair she’d cut not too long ago. It seemed much healthier and fuller, and she found herself mesmerized by the red silk flowing through her fingers. 

“One night, one of the nurses woke me up. She told me she needed my help and I had to be quiet,” Mildred sniffled. “She took me to the edge of the island, and there was another nurse there. The other nurse said she’d gotten pregnant from having sex with one of the soldiers out of desperation to fulfill a need. She was scared and didn’t want her body to carry a child. So I had to sit with her and hold her while the nurse used a rod to dilate her cervix. She writhed in pain and almost broke my hand when the nurse used a curette to extract her pregnancy. I remember the blood mixing with the sand and the woman laying her head on me, begging me to distract her. I tried my best, and she passed out. We had to take her back to our barracks and wait until she came to. She eventually woke up a few hours later, in a lot of pain, but she survived without any infections.” 

“Oh, how terrible,” Gwendolyn crooned, kissing Mildred’s temple. 

“The next time was a little easier. I got to do it that time,” said Mildred. “It was dark, and I couldn’t see very well, so I had to be very careful but somehow quick. She’d been raped. She couldn’t bear the thought of carrying a pregnancy from violence, and she pleaded with me, begging me for mercy. So I laid her down in the sand, placed gauze into her mouth, and dilated her cervix as fast as I could using a rod I’d found around the base. She was a bit calmer than the first. Actually removing the pregnancy was difficult. There was a lot of blood and tissue. I was able to identify that everything had been removed by the clump of tissue that came out. It was no larger than a golf ball and was soft like a sponge. I cleaned everything up and stayed with her, rocking her until she fell asleep.”

Gwendolyn’s fingers laced with Mildred’s. Something about Mildred’s past felt so compelling to understand, to befriend. She hadn’t been a real, credited nurse until recently, and somehow, she had performed a very dangerous—in the sense of getting caught—procedure without questioning her ability. That, to Gwendolyn, was enough. 

“I’m not sorry for it,” Mildred repeated. “I’ve performed five abortions, including Dorothy’s. Each woman was something different. She looked different, had a different pain tolerance, a different story. Every reaction after the abortion was different. Pain, grief, relief, happiness.” 

“You are amazing,” Gwendolyn praised. “You know that?” 

Mildred didn’t answer the question. She blinked. “No one wakes up one morning and decides to have an abortion like the way you want coffee. A woman wants an abortion like a prisoner trapped in a cage. No one understands that.” Her eyes found Gwendolyn’s. “What are you thinking?”

“I think. . .” Gwendolyn shifted Mildred in her lap and supported her back with her palm. Their foreheads met. “You are magnificent. You risked everything to help those women. And Dorothy. . .she was a tragedy. You didn’t have to help her. You could have simply stood back and watched her suffer. But you didn’t. You risked your entire job for her.”

“But I would do it again,” Mildred repeated. “A million times, until I’m dead and buried, nothing but ashes.”

“I love you,” reminded Gwendolyn. “Would you like a hot bath?” 

Mildred nodded against Gwendolyn’s shoulder. Something about the way she curled around Gwendolyn’s waist reminded Gwendolyn of a baby rabbit burrowing away for a winter. Mildred’s skin was soft and warm like a security blanket, and she felt even softer when Gwendolyn stood up, bringing Mildred with her, the latter nearly weightless. 

“You’re perfect,” Gwendolyn praised into Mildred’s ear as she carried her upstairs, her hands already pulling at the nurse’s dress. “So beautiful.”

“Even when I’m having a fit?” Mildred murmured. 

“Even when you’re having a fit,” Gwendolyn repeated. 

—

For the first time, Mildred could not fathom finishing her bologna sandwich. She didn’t care for the particular type of mayonnaise Gwendolyn had used this time. It tasted almost bitter, unlike any type of condiment Mildred had ever tasted. She finished half out of respect for Gwendolyn and wrapped the remainder up in the plastic. 

Gwendolyn had packed Mildred an apple and a peach in Mildred’s sack lunch. The difference between the two was alarmingly worrisome for Mildred. Was she meant to eat both? Or did she have the option? 

Peaches were sweet. Apples were tart. Mildred chose the apple, because her stomach could not tolerate something so sugary as a peach immediately after consuming whatever was inside the sandwich. She took careful nibbles, the juice stinging her lips. It was almost too sour for her liking. Why would Gwendolyn pack this for her? It was bitter! 

The apple was nearly as sour as the nurse’s entering the break room. Whatever appetite Mildred had managed to salvage immediately vanished. Mildred’s mouth curled into a frown as she put her half eaten apple into a napkin and shoved it into the paper bag. 

Ethel and Maria were both acidic in their own ways, and Mildred’s body became rigid around them. Betsy’s desk was full of complaints and reprimands for the both of them, which she’d shown to Mildred once or twice. Despite Ethel the age of Maria’s mother, the older woman seemed to have little regard or respect for the female patients, something Mildred could not develop an understanding for. 

Mildred’s lunch break was not over for another ten minutes, but she was willing to cut it short if the two nurses decided to prolong their stay, which they did, of course. They sat away from Mildred and giggled to themselves like pathetic schoolgirls. Mildred’s cheeks reddened. 

“Nurse Ratched?” asked Maria. Her mouth struggled to keep still. Her shoulders shook. “Why don’t you sit with us?”

“No, thank you. My break is just about over,” Mildred politely declined as she scooted to the edge of the seat. “Thank you, though.”

“Oh, come on,” Maria teased. “You quite enjoy the company of other women, don’t you? I saw what you did awhile back. It may have been raining, but I could clearly see you kissing another woman in your car.”

Mildred felt ill. Her head began to throb like someone was playing the fast beat to The Thing in her skull. The room was spinning like a top, pink and green swirling together.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Mildred. “I did no such thing.”

“You could be fired for this,” Maria taunted, her eyes darkening. “If word got out. Wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”

“That very much sounds like a threat,” Mildred quipped. “I have no interest in conversing with you. You’re on thin ice as it is.”

“You’ll be fired before I am,” Maria reminded. “Wait until Bucket finds out. She’ll beat you with a cane and throw you out by your hair. Or perhaps, she’ll trap you here and rid you of your urges using conversion therapy. It’s the new thing, you know. Ninety percent of cases result in success.”

Mildred could not decided whether to laugh or vomit. Bucket caning her was a laughable concept, but conversion therapy was something new to the country and she was mortified by the thought of Dr. Green introducing it to the hospital. 

“I don’t have to listen to your nonsense,” said Mildred. “I have to get back to work.” Mildred stood up and placed her leftovers in the icebox. 

“Nonsense?” Maria repeated coyly, standing. Her hand touched Mildred’s shoulder a bit too firmly, and Mildred jumped. “You like a woman touching you. You’re sick! Look at the way you’re trembling just by my hand on your shoulder.”

“Get your hand off me!” Mildred snapped as she jerked herself away. “Don’t you ever touch me!”

“Why not? You enjoy it,” Maria teased. Her hands found Mildred’s waist. 

The reeling wire inside Mildred snapped. Before long, Mildred found herself pushing Maria away, sending the young woman stumbling back into the table. Ethel hadn’t caught up just yet, sitting there, watching like they were birds.

“I said not to touch me!” Mildred cried. 

“I’ll do what I want! You’re just a sick, sapphic whore!” 

The only thing Mildred could feel then was her head and back hitting the icebox, and the only thing she could remember was her tightened fist colliding with Maria’s jaw. 

—

A midday phone call was a rarity. Gwendolyn hurried to answer, expecting to hear something back pertaining to the position of the mayor’s secretary she’d been vying for. 

Her disappointment quickly became worry and then horror. Betsy was frantic and somewhat angry, and Gwendolyn could barely understand the word vomit she was spewing. 

“What do you mean she got into a fight?” Gwendolyn cried. “Is she okay? Is she hurt?”

“She’s not too hurt. The other nurse is worse. I just need you to pick her up as soon as you can,” Betsy quietly demanded. “She will be on suspension for a week from today. She can return next Monday, but Dr. Green has stated Mildred cannot stay. You need to get her since you dropped her off this morning. She doesn’t have a way home and I refuse to let her walk.”

Gwendolyn’s breath hitched. Her eyes welled with tears. “Please, Betsy, you know she would never hurt anyone unless she was provoked. Did someone hurt her? What did they do to her?”

“I’ll tell you more when you arrive, I just need her out of the building. This isn’t me, this is coming from Dr. Green,” Betsy stated. “Please, stay outside. I’ll bring her to you when you get here, with her belongings.” 

A tear left Gwendolyn’s eye as she hung up the phone. Someone hurt Mildred, and she knew it to be true, and she was somehow angry at Betsy for treating this without emotion or compassion for Mildred. Mildred couldn’t even swat a fly without remorse! 

Hecate mewled at her empty water bowl, and Gwendolyn refilled it as she snatched her keys from the hook. She counted her breaths in the car before turning the key and making the long, tedious drive to Lucia, her head throbbing to a steady beat. 

There weren’t many cars outside of the hospital. Gwendolyn parked somewhere she could be seen but not too in the eye of things. From her rear view, she could see Betsy escorting Mildred by her elbow. Mildred’s face was, for lack of better terms, destroyed. Her lip was cracked, the black molding itself beneath her right eye stood out like a sore thumb, and her jaw was swelling. Gwendolyn opened the door for Mildred and immediately got to work on grilling Betsy as Mildred fell against her body, sobbing into Gwendolyn’s chest.

“Oh, my god!” Gwendolyn exclaimed. “What happened to her face?! Betsy!”

“She got into a fight,” said Betsy. “With one of the nurses. According to Mildred, Maria was teasing her about her sexuality and threatening her with beatings and conversion therapy. She tried to touch Mildred, and Mildred didn’t like that, and Maria pushed her. It escalated from there.” 

Gwendolyn held Mildred close, her hand cradling her head. Her eyes narrowed. “It sounds like Maria incited the violence. You cannot punish Mildred for defending herself! If she was pushed, why should she be punished for fighting back?” 

“They’re both suspended, since Dr. Green couldn’t get a clear explanation. She says there is no reason for violence,” Betsy sighed. “She can come back. But she’s getting a week to calm herself down.”

“She’s bleeding!” Gwendolyn cried. “Her lip is cracked!” 

“I did an incident report and cleaned her wounds,” Betsy said. “I’ll see you in a week. Just take care of her.”

The car door closed, and Mildred let out a loud cry, her hands curling around Gwendolyn’s collar. Gwendolyn allotted Mildred a few minutes to sail through her big emotions and have her fit, even when Mildred squeezed her so hard that Gwendolyn felt her lungs would collapse. 

The wailing became soft after a few minutes more, and Gwendolyn pulled Mildred up, supporting her back with her hands. Mildred’s face was blotched with emotion and swollen with grief. The cut on her bottom lip was red and surrounded in dried blood. Gwendolyn pressed a small kiss to it, then made her way onto Mildred’s hot cheeks, then to the black eye.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Gwendolyn asked. “I’m not angry with you, love. See? My hands are right here. I won’t hurt you.”

“Not here,” croaked Mildred, throwing a look over her shoulder. “They can see us.” 

“Alright, darling. We’ll go home,” said Gwendolyn, without missing a beat. “Home. Okay? We’ll snuggle up and I’ll hold you and you can unload everything onto me.”

“Okay,” Mildred whimpered. 

Mildred couldn’t keep herself still on the way home. She fiddled with the paper bag that held her stale, rotting lunch. The repetitive crinkling soothed her into a quietness that disturbed Gwendolyn. Picking Mildred up from work was normally a genuinely exciting affair. Mildred would play the radio, sing all the wrong words, and Gwendolyn would laugh and squeeze her knee. But today. . .Mildred was silent, the only sound to be heard the sound of the bag in her hands.

Mildred hadn’t felt the car stop. When she looked up, she saw home, and she began to cry again. Gwendolyn frowned, tucked the lunch bag under her arm, and brought Mildred into her arms. Mildred hiccuped against Gwendolyn’s chest and dug her fingers into the swell of Gwendolyn’s breast. 

“What’s the matter, darling? We’re home,” said Gwendolyn. “You’re all right, my sweet.”

“You’re going to punish me,” Mildred sobbed. 

“Why ever would I do that?” Gwendolyn questioned. “Because you got into a fight and needed to protect yourself? Come on, let’s get you inside so I can have a look at you.”

Gwendolyn would need a cane soon if she carried Mildred even just once more, but she didn’t mind, because struggling to carry her was much more favorable than Mildred face-planting into the sidewalk and remaining there for three hours until she could find the strength to move. So Gwendolyn carried her, again, into the house, and she settled on the sofa with Mildred straddling her waist. 

“See, darling?” Gwendolyn crooned, her hands visible. “No punishment for you. I need to take a look at you and see where you’re hurt so I can make it better.” 

Mildred did not want to be touched in that moment, but she couldn’t understand how to vocalize it without fearing upsetting Gwendolyn. 

“Is it okay if I do that, Mildred?” Gwendolyn asked. “If you don’t want me to take your clothes off, tell me so.”

“I don’t want you to take my clothes off,” Mildred parroted. “Not right now. Maybe later?”

“Of course.” Gwendolyn pressed a kiss to Mildred’s head. “Later is okay. Do you hurt anywhere?” 

Mildred’s face hurt, but that was very obvious. She shook her head. Gwendolyn hummed and took a look into the paper bag. A positive smile crept its way onto her face. 

“You ate the apple,” Gwendolyn said, amused. “And half the sandwich.”

“I couldn’t finish it,” Mildred admitted. “It tasted. . .different. I’m sorry.”

“But you ate half. That’s half more than I thought you’d eat,” Gwendolyn said. “I know it was different for you. I put hummus in it instead of mayonnaise. I wanted to see how well you’d take it. I gave you a choice between a peach or an apple because I knew you wouldn’t finish the sandwich and I didn’t want you to starve, and I’m so proud of you for choosing the apple.” 

Mildred fell limp against Gwendolyn, satisfied with playing with the buttons of Gwendolyn’s blouse. They sat there for quite some time, until Mildred blinked the sleepiness away, the scratchiness of her dress bringing her back to the realization that she needed to change.

“I want to go back to work,” whimpered the nurse. “It wasn’t my fault. She was saying such vile things to me, telling me I’ll get beaten and put in conversion therapy to cure me. And then she pushed me!” 

“I’m a little confused, darling,” said Gwendolyn. “How would she assume or know that you’re a lesbian?”

Mildred hiccuped. “She said—she claimed—she saw me kissing another woman in the car. We did that once. But there was no one around. She’s a liar, an attention seeker. She just wants to feel good about herself. I hate her. I hate her for pushing me, for making me violent. I hate her, I wish—“

Gwendolyn’s mouth found Mildred’s, swallowing Mildred’s words. The nurse sighed into it, relaxing under Gwendolyn’s warmth. 

“Can I get out of these clothes?” Mildred asked when they broke apart. “It’s itchy.”

Gwendolyn chuckled. “Yes. I need to make sure you’re all right.” 

Mildred smiled as Gwendolyn fought with buttons of her frock, finally releasing Mildred from the confines of her uniform some minutes later. She did away with Mildred’s bra and watched as her breasts rested in their natural state, all pink and rosy. The burning desire Gwendolyn had to devour Mildred was quickly halted by the bruising up Mildred’s back. 

“Oh, my angel,” Gwendolyn fretted. “She really hurt you.” 

“Not as much as I hurt her,” Mildred quipped. “I got some bruises and a black eye and a week’s vacation. She’ll need a doctor and a week to heal.” 

Gwendolyn chuckled and kissed Mildred again, their noses brushing one another. 

“That’s my girl.”

—

Mildred’s bruises healed within the week. That week was spent lounging with Gwendolyn, driving to Frisco to take a walk down the street hand-in-hand without having stones thrown at them, and returning home and making as much love as time allotted them, once Mildred’s bruises were yellowed enough for Gwendolyn to feel okay with it. 

Mildred’s frock was ironed and washed by Gwendolyn. The nurse stepped into the teal garment and buttoned it up as quickly as she could. She stepped into her heels and clasped them with shaky fingers. 

Gwendolyn hadn’t wanted Mildred to return to the hospital after the debacle with Maria. But it was Monday, and Gwendolyn woefully had to send Mildred off on her own volition although she respectfully disagreed with it. Mildred loved her patients and could not bear to leave them in that manner. 

“Have a good day today,” Gwendolyn said as she handed Mildred a paper bag. “It’s a bologna sandwich with mayonnaise. I put a pear and some crackers in there instead. Give it a try for me.” 

“I love you,” said Mildred. “And I won’t beat her up, I promise. I only fought her because she hurt me first. I’ll be mature.”

Gwendolyn chuckled and ushered Mildred to the car. Mildred sighed and kissed Gwendolyn once more through the window of the car before leaving her on the sidewalk, standing in her robe with a mug of coffee in one hand. Her heart ached as she left, because the week she’d spent alone with her without interruption was absolute magic. Waking up late with Gwendolyn caressing her cheek, having breakfast for dinner every night, spending a night in Frisco under the city lights, those had been things of healing after her hurt.

Betsy welcomed Mildred with open arms upon her return. Mildred understood that Betsy meant no harm in sending her on her way after the fight, and so Mildred welcomed Betsy’s warmth. 

“I’m sorry I had to do that to you,” Betsy said, a stack of folders in her hand. “It wasn’t my choice to suspend you.”

“I know. I’m not cross with you,” said Mildred. “I promise.” 

“Laura and Valerie have missed you. Why don’t you go say hello,” Betsy offered. She paused. “No one’s taken them on their daily walk to the barn since you’ve been gone. I would have done it myself if I weren’t so busy. None of the other nurses wanted to do it, and one threatened to quit if I forced her. We’re short-staffed as it is, I couldn’t afford it.” 

Mildred smiled and placed a comforting hand on Betsy’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” 

Mildred went to put away her lunch. Her morning routine included storing her lunch somewhere Betsy wouldn’t grab hold of it and using the restroom before checking in with the lesbians. 

The nurse’s restroom had two stalls and a small sitting area in the corner, which Mildred had only ever seen used once, when a nurse had a meltdown after a schizophrenic patient tried to throttle her. One of the stalls was occupied, so Mildred walked into the empty one, only to be disappointed with blood smears on the toilet seat. She began wiping it away with toilet paper, until the sound of sobbing startled her. 

“Are you okay in there?” Mildred asked. The only response she received was a sob and sniffle. 

The restroom went quiet. Mildred left the stall and knocked on the other one, her knuckles barely touching the door. The lock twisted and the door swinging open revealed Maria, a huddled mess in the corner of the stall, her arms wrapped around herself like a wounded turtle. 

“Maria?” Mildred asked. She wanted to be angry, but there was simply no need for it. “What’s the matter with you?”

Maria’s black eyes and the bruising along her jaw had healed. She looked almost normal again, despite the crying and the way her nails dug into her flesh. Mildred tilted her head. 

“Why didn’t you kill me when we fought?” Maria sobbed into her palm. “Why didn’t you just crack my skull open and put me out of my suffering?”

“What are you talking about?” Mildred inquired. “You may have hurt me, but I wouldn’t have killed you.” 

“I wish you had.”

“No, you don’t. Come sit,” Mildred offered. She extended her hand, and Maria took it with ease, unafraid to touch the skin of a queer with such gentleness. Mildred sat with her on the small sofa. “Why are you crying?” 

“Why should I tell you?” Maria asked as she wiped her tears. “We fought. I know it was my fault, and I’m sorry. Why are you helping me?”

“Because I don’t like seeing people hurt,” Mildred admitted. “Tell me what’s going on. Why do you want to die?”

There was a large, pregnant pause that deafened Mildred. Maria fiddled with the hem of her frock, her fingers trembling around the collar as she awkwardly pulled at it. Her eyes couldn’t meet Mildred’s for more than half a second. Mildred recognized the behavior as her own, from when she repeatedly suppressed her sexual desires, and she nodded in assurance. 

“I’m just like you, I think,” said Maria. “My husband doesn’t know that, though. He thinks I’m just loving, caring wife who works as a nurse to save sick people. I don’t. I’m here because I’d rather change bedpans and clean up vomit than sit at home doing laundry until he comes home and starts slobbering all over me like a dog.”

“You’re married,” Mildred breathed, astonished that someone so youthful would become this vulnerable so soon. “You’re young.”

“Twenty-two isn’t very young,” Maria countered. “We got married six months ago. We totally missed the honeymoon phase. I hate him touching all over me, breathing down my neck. I hate when he comes home from work on my off days and gets angry that I’m not done cooking or cleaning. I get scared when he needs to take his frustration out and he chooses me. He gets sexually aggressive sometimes.” 

Mildred wanted to be sick. She wanted to ruin the pearly white floors with her vomit. More than anything else, she wanted to cradle the infantile lesbian and never let her go. The same way she’d fallen for Dorothy, she was falling for Maria. Never in a romantic or sexual way, but a way that called for healing and mercy. 

“I got aggressive with the lesbian patients because I saw too much of myself in them,” Maria said. “I shook them because I wanted to shake myself. I hurt them because I wanted to hurt myself. And I teased you and caused a fight because I was jealous. I know you’re happy with yourself, and I’m not, and so I got mad. It’s what Ralph does to me when he’s mad at himself. He projects. I only married him to shut my parents up, anyway. I don’t love him and he doesn’t love me. I’m just a toy.” 

“Is that why you were crying just now?” Mildred questioned. Maria shook her head. “Then what is it?” 

The soft eyes that welled with tears again met Mildred’s. The tears flowed freely, and Maria allowed herself to fall against Mildred’s shoulder. The older nurse found herself wrapping an arm around her, bringing her closer. 

“After our fight, I had to see a doctor just to make sure nothing was broken. Nothing was, but they discovered that I’m pregnant,” Maria wailed.

The revelation came as no surprise to Mildred, but it pained her all the same. She held the young woman and cradled her against her chest, allowing her to nestle there like a child with her mother. 

“How far along?” Mildred inquired. “And do you want it?”

“Seven weeks now,” whimpered Maria. “I don’t want to be pregnant. Not now, not later, not ever. I hate him! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” 

Each cry was accentuated with little fists hitting Mildred’s chest. When the young nurse finally tired herself out and fell limp, Mildred continued rocking and soothing with gentle shushes. Her physical wounds had healed, but there were many more that Maria needed to mend. 

“Maria,” Mildred called as she shook her gently, rousing her. “If you could make this go away, would you?”

“Of course,” Maria slurred. “I don’t want it. I can’t give birth. It’s dangerous and I’m not ripping my body apart for something I don’t want.” 

“I’m going to give you my address,” said Mildred, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I can help you, but you have to trust me on this. We both have Sundays off. Would you be willing to come over next Sunday?” 

“For what?” Maria spat bitterly. “Are you trying to trap me? For what I did?”

“No. I want to help you. But you cannot, and I mean, cannot, tell anyone,” Mildred warned. “Just stop by, say around noon. Wear something comfortable you don’t mind bleeding on, just in case. I have a hot water bottle and sanitizing supplies already. No need to bring anything, unless you have something of comfort that would make you feel safe.” 

She moved Maria off her lap and kneeled before her, her hands wiping away the last of Maria’s tears. The young woman’s eyes showed nothing but a mixture of fear and relief. Maria was almost skeptical, but she found herself desperate enough that she found trust and warmth in Mildred. 

Mildred produced a pen and scrap paper from her pocket and scribbled down her address, slipping it into Maria’s hand. 

“I promise, I’m not hurting you,” Mildred assured. She curled Maria’s hand around the paper. “Please come by. I can help you.” 

Maria breathed. “Okay.”

—

Mildred and Gwendolyn had an ice cream sundae night on Saturday. Mildred hadn’t had a fit in over a week, and Gwendolyn decided to reward her with a sweet treat. They were curled on the sofa, watching I Love Lucy, when Mildred decided to face Gwendolyn, placing her bowl of ice cream on the end table. 

“Are you full already?” Gwendolyn chuckled. “We just started.”

“No, it’s not that. Um. . .” Mildred turned the volume of the television down, crawling into Gwendolyn’s lap. “Maria. The woman that incited the fight. She needs my help.” 

“Well, I don’t see how her giving you a black eye helped you at all,” said Gwendolyn, the hate dripping from her voice. “What does she want?” 

Mildred flinched. She ran her hands along Gwendolyn’s shoulders and soothed her tension with those magical touches of hers. Gwendolyn relaxed under her touch and melted like butter in the sun. Mildred was a godsend, a fairy, a good witch. She was everything Gwendolyn needed. 

“Gwen. She really needs help. She’s one of us,”said Mildred. “She’s. . .gay. But she’s married to a man who beats her, abuses her, who got her pregnant, and she doesn’t want it. Gwendolyn, do you think, because of what she did to me, she should be punished by having to carry his fetus and destroy her body giving birth to something she’ll hate for the rest of her life?” 

Gwendolyn had to be honest with herself; she hadn’t expected any of that. Mildred looked at her hopefully, expectantly, but there was a bit of decision and certainty in Mildred’s eyes that twinkled brighter than New York lights in December. 

“What are you asking me?” Gwendolyn inquired. 

“I’m not asking anything of you. I’m telling you that Maria will be here tomorrow afternoon. I can’t do it at the hospital, it’s just too risky,” Mildred said. “Please, Gwen. I have to do this. I can’t let her suffer. She’s young, she has an entire life ahead of her. It doesn’t matter what she did to me. What matters is that I have the resources to help her and I can’t let what happened interfere with giving her the healthcare she needs. I’m supposed to help people, not hurt them.” 

Gwendolyn’s eyes twinkled. She couldn’t fathom the anomaly that was her sweet, beautiful Mildred Ratched. Everything about Mildred was heavenly and divine in creation, from her lips, to her waist, to everything that lied beneath. Gwendolyn could devour her faster than she could devour the ice cream. 

“You’re so lovely,” said Gwendolyn, a grin finding its way on her face. “She can come by. You can use the guest bedroom. How long. . .does it usually take?” 

Mildred shrugged. “Depends. On how well she feels afterwards. Some women bleed more than others, some have a lot of pain, some have no pain. I snatched a vial of a sedative from the hospital. I’m going to give her a bit. Not enough to totally knock her out, but just enough where she won’t feel anything. She’ll be in and out for awhile, and it may take up to an hour for her to fully come to. She needs to be okay to drive herself home afterwards. She told her husband she’s going out to have her hair shampooed and anticipates to be out for a few hours.”

Gwendolyn left a few kisses along Mildred’s collarbone, eliciting a giggle from Mildred’s throat as she did so. Mildred grabbed hold of Gwendolyn’s waist and tried kicking away. 

“Gwen! The ice cream is melting!” Mildred cried.

“You taste sweeter,” said Gwendolyn, pulling Mildred closer, until their bodies became one, and the ice cream melted away.

—

Then it was Sunday. Gwendolyn and Mildred had a quiet breakfast of pancakes and bacon, followed by Mildred’s early afternoon snack of pudding. By the time she threw the empty pudding cup away, it was nearly noon, and she needed to prepare for her guest. Or was it patient? Friend? Nothing seemed quite fitting.

Gwendolyn had been an absolute saint throughout the evening and morning. She’d made down the guest bedroom and lined the bed with two old sets of sheets she didn’t mind dirtying. Harsh lighting was not recommended by Mildred, and so Gwendolyn turned off the overhead lights and favored a yellow floor lamp in the corner of the room, filling the room with an orangish glow that reminded Gwendolyn of peace. 

Mildred carried her briefcase upstairs. In the other hand she held a clean baking bowl, of which she was going to use to fill with water. She used the dresser as a medical table, setting her supplies there. Gwendolyn watched in awe of her lover as she situated the room in a comforting manner. 

“What are you staring at?” Mildred asked as she wrapped her arms around Gwendolyn’s waist. 

“You,” replied Gwendolyn. “Determined, brave, smart, perfect you.” 

What could have easily become a love-making session was cut short by the doorbell. A fuzzy ball of dander dashed across the hallway and into the bathroom where the litter box was. Gwendolyn chuckled and escorted Hecate into their bedroom, locking her away until Maria was due to leave. 

Maria was about what Gwendolyn expected from Mildred’s skewed descriptions. Young, petite, slender, innocent. She reminded Gwendolyn much of younger herself, and she was drawn to her the moment she entered the house. Her arms were nervously tucked around herself, as if protecting her body from something. She stood awkwardly in front of Mildred and Gwendolyn, uncertain of what to say first. 

“Maria, this is Gwendolyn,” Mildred said quietly. “My better half.” 

The pink on Maria’s cheeks was quite precious, Gwendolyn had to admit. Mildred offered the girl a friendly smile and extended her hand. 

“I promise, I won’t hurt you,” Mildred assured. “Come with me. I’m taking you upstairs to our guest room.”

Maria didn’t want to move. Perhaps too terrified of what could be awaiting her upstairs. But Mildred’s warmth, the warmth she had outside of that goddamn frock, like a regular woman in a regular home with a regular relationship, was so compelling. She couldn’t resist the normalcy Mildred provided her with. 

Gwendolyn watched them go up. She didn’t know what to expect from this, if she needed to do anything, say anything. She just watched, until she heard the door close, and then she returned to making a light lunch for herself.

The luxury of performing an abortion in the privacy of one’s home was a rarity. Mildred had the time to settle Maria down on the bed and introduce her to the tools she would be using on her, explaining their functions and what they were used for. Maria flinched each time Mildred’s finger tapped a new tool, but as Maria studied them a bit, a wave of calm overcame her body. 

“Will this hurt?” Maria asked.

“I’m giving you a sedative. You’ll be in and out, so not fully unconscious, but you shouldn’t feel much during. Afterwards, you may feel some cramping,” Mildred explained. “It’s no worse than menstrual cramps. I’ll let you rest here and place a hot water bottle on your abdomen to help with the pain. I’ll also give you some painkillers. The procedure only takes me ten to fifteen minutes.”

The reassurance comforted Maria, and before long, she was removing everything from the waist down. She curled into herself, and Mildred brushed her hair from her face.

“Hey,” Mildred cooed. “You’re safe here. I won’t judge you. There’s nothing about your body or this situation that I’ve not seen before. You are not the first woman I’ve helped with an abortion. I know you’re feeling vulnerable right now, but it’s going to be just fine.”

Maria exposed herself then. She laid back, her legs falling open. Her arms laid at her sides, her shoulders aligned with each other as she breathed deeply, trying to find inner peace. Mildred repeated the process of cleaning around the area with Maria the same way she’d done to Dorothy before injecting her with the mild sedative. Maria’s eyes began to flutter as Mildred got to work. 

“Sleep, sweetheart,” said Mildred. “Get some sleep. Try not to move, okay?” 

As Mildred had said, Maria was in and out of consciousness, the world black around the edges and the rest blurry and distorted. She could hear echoes of Mildred using her tools, and there was a faint pressure in her pelvis, but there was no pain. 

Time seemed to distort, speeding up and then slowing down. Maria relaxed and counted the rainbow swirls on the popcorn ceiling as she did her best to ignore what little pressure she could feel. She made it to twenty before Mildred placed something soft against her vulva and closed her thighs for her, bringing her legs down. The grogginess had not worn all the way off just yet, and Maria sighed as she tried sitting up. 

“No, not yet,” Mildred said, helping her lay back down. “You’re still drowsy. Let me finish cleaning up, and I’ll help you up.” 

Mildred took a few minutes to clean the mucus and bloodstained towels. There wasn’t much this time around, but Mildred could see she’d been successful by the little fleshy tissue inside the towel. It was pink and soft, as she’d expected. A relief lifted off her shoulders. 

After doing away with the evidence in a plastic trash bag that she had every intention of burning that night, Mildred helped Maria sit up. She draped a clean throw blanket over her and sat her against the pillows, their hands never disconnecting. The older nurse brought forth the hot water bottle and laid it against Maria’s abdomen. The young lady was more alert and conscious now. 

“How’s that feel?” Mildred asked. 

“Better,” Maria groaned.

“Any pain at all?” 

“It’s just a slight cramping. I’ve had periods worse than this,” said Maria. She paused. “Thank you. For helping me. I’m really sorry for what I did to you.”

“You’re forgiven,” assured Mildred.

Mildred wasn’t great at forgiveness. Everyone who had wronged her had to suffer in some way, even if they’d so much as stole her peach from the icebox. But not Maria. She was different. And Mildred didn’t consider an abortion the most convenient thing, either.

“What are you going to do?” Mildred asked. “After this? Sweetheart, there’s bruises all over you, and they aren’t from our scuffle. They’re fresh.” 

“I was stuck with him for a week,” said Maria. “I never told him about my pregnancy. I wanted him to beat me then, so I would miscarry. But I never did, even when he pushed me and kicked me. He was mad about his suit not being ironed on time. I was busy making breakfast. I tried so hard to get it right, but I burned it.”

“Oh, darling,” Mildred sighed. “He can’t do this to you. He can’t keep hurting you. He’s going to kill you one day.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” A tear left Maria’s eye. “Maybe I don’t want to be here.”

Careful around the water bottle and Maria’s sensitive body, Mildred brought Maria into her chest and let her cry there. The sobs rocked the both of them, and Mildred held her so tight she thought Maria might break under her embrace. Something felt so innocent and pure about the girl and the way she curled into Mildred like an infant. 

“Please don’t ever say that, darling,” Mildred fretted. “You don’t want him to kill you. I don’t want him to kill you. You’re too special for him to take you away.”

Maria cried until her body gave out. She cried until every last tear had been exhausted from her ducts. She cried until she was fast asleep in Mildred’s arms, lovingly held by the woman who saved her. 

Gwendolyn brought a tray of crackers and apple juice into the room. She found Mildred holding sleeping Maria, and she sat there with her, her hand touching Mildred’s shoulder.

“She’s okay, she’s just exhausted,” said Mildred. She swallowed. “He’s going to kill her. She’s covered in purple, Gwen.”

Gwendolyn was only curious when she lifted the hem of Maria’s blouse, revealing the swollen marks painting her body. Gwendolyn frowned and placed her hand on the woman’s back as she slept soundly. 

“She isn’t going back to him,” Gwendolyn affirmed. “Men like this. . .they do more than hurt. They kill. They murder. And I couldn’t live with myself if we let her go and she ends up dead and buried in the backyard like an animal.”

The violent thought of Maria lying dead in a pool of blood made Mildred shudder in grief. She’d known pain all too well, and she refused to play a part in the death of a young woman who’d just escaped a terrible situation with her life still intact. 

Mildred looked to Gwendolyn for guidance, and without much time to think it through, Gwendolyn nodded. 

“She can stay. Not for long. But she’s not going back to him. She’s not going to become another statistic,” Gwendolyn assured. “Women. . .they’re so precious. They’re precious beings. Delicate.” 

“He won’t hurt her again,” Mildred said, and that was certain. “We have her.”

“We have her,” repeated Gwendolyn. 

And Maria stayed with them until the summer heat faded. She kept her job, earned her keep, and while her husband initially called the hospital each day in hopes she’d be there, he forfeited after a few weeks, perhaps falling in love with the thought of her being dead and gone. 

Maria saved every last cent she earned, because Gwendolyn assured her she had to pay for nothing while staying in the house that built a new her. She watched Mildred and Gwendolyn’s love, watched how they held and kissed each other so softly, watched the way they danced in time with each other. She took notes, each day learning something new. How to dance, how to play chess, how to give your wife a proper back massage. 

In a way, Mildred and Gwendolyn raised Maria for those few months. Maria had only been a broken shell of a woman the day of the abortion, and with a little love and demonstration, Mildred and Gwendolyn had her rejuvenated and dancing along with them. 

Patience. It took patience most of all. Some days Maria would crave running back to Ralph, other days were plagued with nightmares and visions of being beaten so badly she went blind. Sometimes Gwendolyn would have Mildred in one arm and Maria in the other, consoling them both after nightmares in unison, as if they’d synced their minds like clockwork. 

After rehabilitating Maria and stabilizing her enough to become independent and flourish on her own, the morning in September arrived quickly. Maria had her things packed and waiting at the door. Mildred handed her the train ticket to Portland and offered to drive her to the train station, but Maria politely refused. 

“I called for a cab. You’ve done so much for me already,” Maria said. Her eyes welled with tears. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

“You will always be special to us,” Mildred reminded. “You’re going to get better. You’ll find a woman who loves you as you are. And you’ll see, you’ll become the cat-loving, crocheting lesbian you’re destined to become. Just give it time. Your life will sort out.”

“But remember,” Gwendolyn added. “Enjoy it for what it is. You don’t have to love every moment of every day, but remember this time in your life. Remember when you were at the worst point, ready to die, but you didn’t. Remember getting back up and pushing forward.”

Maria smiled and allowed herself to be enveloped by the two women, who squeezed and squeezed until a horn was heard. Maria pulled away, wiping away the last of her tears before picking up her belongings and escorting herself into the cab. 

Mildred and Gwendolyn watched as she left. Maria became a faded shadow, a distant memory yet so close. They stood there for a few minutes, yearning for her return to them one day, even if they were old and had lost their wits. One day, they would see each other again.

“Gwendolyn?” Mildred asked. 

“Yes, darling?” 

“You’re an angel, too.”

Gwendolyn brought Mildred into her arms and left kisses all over her face. “Not as much as you.” 

Mildred sighed against Gwendolyn. “Ice cream and a nap?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
